The Gentleman's New Governess
by Shiloh T
Summary: [HAITUS] Harrington Manor is in need of a new governess, and Bubbles is perfect for the job. The Harrington children will finally have a mother figure again and the poor girl will have a job and roof over her head-perfect,right? Add in matchmaking, laughter, drama, family- and someone's bound to dance to the sound of music. *Inspired by the classics and the sound of music*
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: The Powerpuff Girls are sadly not owned by me.**

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 **-Prologue-**

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 _"There is perhaps no more rewarding romance heroine than she who is not expected to find love. The archetype comes in many disguises - the wallflower, the spinster, the governess, the single mom - but always with one sad claim: Love is not in her cards." - Sarah Maclean_

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The clock had just struck noon when a knock came from the front door.

Alice Crawford rose sedately, straightened her voluminous plum-colored skirt, and moved towards the ornate oak door with the same deliberation that she showed in all her work.

The visitor was a young woman. Not attractive – not _exactly_ , Mrs. Crawford thought, observing her casually as she led her to the seat in front of her study's desk. Wispy golden curls escaped from her single braid; she was small and slight, and her huge clear blue eyes with long, dark lashes would have rendered her certainly pretty, if not for her spaced out look and overall childlike naivety. She wasn't attractive, definitely not – but there was something about her that the middle-aged woman liked immediately.

"I hope you could find the place with no trouble?" Alice Crawford asked solicitously.

"Oh, yes," the woman replied in a pleasant, clear voice. "Your directions were perfect."

"Thank you, dear. I am Mrs. Crawford. Tea?" Without waiting for an answer – she knew these modern women, they would never admit that they were thirsty – she pushed forward a comfortable-looking mug full of sweet-smelling tea. "I've already made it. You can't refuse."

"Thank you." She sat and sipped her drink. Mrs. Crawford thought approvingly that they weren't delicate, tiny sips either – they were wholesome swallows. This one wasn't a delicate featherhead – she would be able to control the children.

"You are Bubbles Utonium?"

"Yes, ma'am." She spoke with confidence.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"You wrote that you had experience with young children?"

"Yes, ma'am. I had about twelve siblings to look after and I took a job as a part-time governess for a seven-year-old boy while I was completing my studies."

"And what do you teach?"

"History, English, French, and Maths," Bubbles Utonium replied promptly. "I also know quite a bit about botany-"

"Yes, well that's quite enough for six-year-olds to learn," Alice Crawford interrupted quickly. "You like children?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I get along with them very well. And they don't walk all over me, if I may say so."

"I have no doubt." Mrs. Crawford had already decided, in her mind, that she would hire this creature. The other two applicants were not at all what she was looking for; one was nearly seventy and much too heavy to go running after four young and active children, and the other was young and much too modern and efficient for her tastes. This was the one – but it wouldn't do for her to be unprofessional.

"Do you have a situation now?"

Bubbles Utonium's lively face fell slightly. "No," she replied ruefully. "The boy I was tutoring moved to Switzerland, for some reason. And – I haven't been able to find a job for a while now. I just completed my studies – I studied literature and the arts. I – need a job, ma'am. My father died a year ago and I had to put my personal life on hold to support my family, so I'm – well, to put it plainly, flat broke." She spoke very frankly and Alice Crawford was a compassionate woman who had already noticed the gray and very worn suit that had been carefully mended many times.

"I see. My dear, I ought not to be confiding this to you, but quite frankly, you might be the answer to everything. The other applicants for this job were unsatisfactory, to say the least."

The young woman's face suddenly flushed with excitement. "Do you – will I – am I it?" she breathed incoherently.

"As far as I am concerned, _yes_. Of course, I shall have to consult my employer." Suddenly, she was struck with an idea – a very _roguish_ idea – but it could possibly work–

Feeling suddenly much younger and mischievous, Alice Crawford said demurely, "He is quite a busy man, that Mr. Harrington."

"Yes?" There was friendly curiosity in Bubbles' eyes.

"Only twenty-six, I believe," she mentioned offhandedly. "You know, my dear, I _was_ the nanny, but my sister passed away and left me a monstrous estate that I am compelled to take over. I love the children, but there's no way I can wiggle out of this one."

"What are they like?"

"The children? Oh, _sweet_. You'll get along with them, all right. The six-year-old twins are whom you'll tutor – they are Buttercup and Blossom. Then Robin is almost four – and then there is two-year-old Michael. You do know how to take care of babies, right?"

"Oh, yes. I'm very experienced for someone who's never had any."

"BC – as we call Buttercup- is usually a handful, but she's always very penitent. Blossom is an angel. Robin is too young to tell, but she's active enough – you'll have your hands full keeping her from all the places she shouldn't be. Mikey is what we call the baby, bless his heart, and he's also an angel."

"They sound delightful."

"Yes. Their mother is dead, you know."

Bubbles drew in her breath and looked genuinely sympathetic. "Oh, that's awful," she cried.

"Two years ago, from birthing complications. Evangeline was a nice little creature – astoundingly beautiful. You'll find that Robin takes after her. The others don't, a bit, but they're all very good-looking too – Boomer Harrington _is_ , you know."

"I see," Bubbles said, glancing at Mrs Crawford with laughter in her eyes.

"I don't see why you shouldn't take the job, anyway," Alice Crawford said contemplatively. "I will give you some money to buy yourself a governess uniform – oh yes," she said severely in response to Bubbles' protest, "You must have a uniform. Four new outfits should do the trick. Mr. Harrington insists on uniformity." In truth, she was just saying that as a tactful way of giving Miss Utonium enough money to buy some much-needed clothes, if she was to be the judge of anything. "If I asked you to come up to the house Wednesday – that is the day after tomorrow – after luncheon – say two o'clock – you might meet Mr. Harrington. Is that all right?"

"That's wonderful. Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Crawford. I'll be there. Oh, thank you!"

She rose, shook the benevolent woman's hand, and left with a jubilant expression. Alice Crawford was equally pleased, for her beloved children would be under good care with Bubbles Utonium and hopefully her splendidly devilish idea would bring Mr. Harrington his much needed happiness.

 **~End Of Chapter~**

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 **The stage is set…the actors are ready!**

 **Tell me, what did you think?**

 **R &R and favorite and follow :) in short, don't be a stranger!**

 **Peace,**

 **~Shiloh~**


	2. Harrington Manor

_Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed and liked this story. I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am :)_

 _For the purpose of this story, Buttercup is the older twin, and a few of the characters' features are different-nothing too major. But it is necessary._

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 **-Harrington Manor-**

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Boomer Harrington's house was in the middle of the Dorset countryside. It was the dreariest type of day in England; the sky was completely blanketed with drab gray clouds, and it was drizzling steadily by the time Bubbles' hansom cab had reached the estate.

Bubbles got off the cab and paid her fare with an inward sigh as she stared apprehensively at the iron gates. Gathering her nerve, she marched up to the bars and gulped as she pulled it open. The cab rode away – she was completely alone.

After some difficulty closing the gate again – for it was quite muddy – she set off down a winding path surrounded by trees. She clutched a new black umbrella, for Alice Crawford's generous donation had not only covered five new "uniforms", but also a new hat, shoes, and the new umbrella. Alice Crawford was a dear, Bubbles thought affectionately, and though she was uncomfortable accepting her generous offer, she couldn't help feeling _grateful_ for it.

Bubbles decided that Mrs. Crawford must have been very handsome as a girl – she aged very well. She thought proudly of the clothes that dear woman's money had bought – three suits of navy blue, lilac, and very pale green, one very plain and elegant sky blue dress, and a travelling suit of gray that she was wearing. Unfortunately, she was wearing her very old trenchcoat that was allowing water to seep through and stain her new blouse.

"Nothing for it, Bubbles my dear," she spoke out loud firmly. "You're going to have to run if you don't want to completely ruin this outfit."

No one was around. Half guiltily, half excitedly, she dashed off down the stone path, wetting her new boots but succeeding in keeping herself dry as well as warming herself up. She was brought up short, however, by the sight of Harrington Manor, as a wooden sign so generously told her.

It was a huge brick house that looked very – well, homey, she decided. It must have been a hundred times larger than her tiny place in the West End of London. There was a huge beautiful fountain right in front of the mini-mansion. Bubbles walked up the few steps to the front door – or doors, she should say, for they were huge white double doors with an old-fashioned bell pull hanging from above.

She took a deep breath and pulled it – once. A deep gong sounded for a good ten seconds before the door opened.

A smooth-faced steward bowed her in. "Miss Utonium? Mr. Harrington is expecting you."

Feeling ridiculously out of place in this grand establishment, she followed the steward down the hall and into a very beautiful sitting room that was done in shades of pale pink.

Sitting on a rose-colored sofa was the famous Boomer Harrington.

Bubbles felt a tremendous and very girlish urge to giggle as she saw the undoubtedly masculine Mr. Harrington recline against such a color. She sternly told herself to shut up and observed her employer with unabashed curiosity.

He looked very young – younger than even twenty six – and he was very good-looking, as Mrs. Crawford had commented. He had sandy hair that was rather untidy – a quality that caused Bubbles to relax a little – and very penetrating dark blue eyes that were currently crinkled into a smile, though his lips remained neutral.

"Do sit down, Miss Harrington," he said in an attractively deep voice.

Bubbles sat opposite him, completely nervous.

"I hope you had a comfortable journey?"

"Oh, yes sir," she gasped. "The cab driver only got lost twice."

To her surprise – for she honestly had not meant to be funny – Mr. Harrington chuckled. It immediately broke the ice, for his laugh was very comfortable and friendly, and she immediately giggled herself, calming down slightly.

"A record number," he said, smiling at the young woman in front of him.

Boomer Harrington had been openly skeptical when Alice Crawford had told him about the twenty-one-year-old woman she had hired for a governess. Only twenty one – she couldn't possibly keep four children in order – and he strongly suspected that Mrs. Crawford was having a hand at matchmaking, and he wouldn't have it. However, he found himself liking Bubbles Utonium in spite of his misgivings. He asked polite questions for a few minutes until his faithful steward Bertram brought tea and frosted cakes.

He helped himself liberally – for he sensed that she wouldn't take any if he wouldn't – and sat back, scrutinizing her.

"I wasn't sure, you know, if a twenty-one-year-old would be able to keep my children in order," he said bluntly after a moment and Bubbles became very discomfited.

She blushed heartily.

"But – I quite see that you can," he said hastily. "You wouldn't let them rag you at all."

"No, sir," she said firmly, though the color was still high in her cheeks.

Boomer Harrington felt slightly flustered at her reaction. "You – would you like to meet them?" he asked stumblingly.

"Oh – yes, I would love to meet them," Bubbles said quickly.

"I'll call them," he said, recovering. He called Bertram and spoke to him for a few seconds before sitting down and looking at her again.

She stared at him unabashedly.

"Well?" he asked, smiling despite himself. "What do you think?"

"What do I think of _you_ , you mean?" she asked shrewdly. "Oh, well, it's not important." At his protest, she smiled and said quickly, "It's – good. I think, if you give me this job, that I'll be happy – and I'll do marvellously well." She looked at him very frankly with her large, twinkling blue eyes.

"I'm sure you will," Mr. Harrington said firmly, feeling very certain for some reason.

At this point, Bertram brought in the children.

"Children," Boomer Harrington said, turning to face them. "This is your new governess, Miss Utonium."

"Bubbles," she corrected, sizing up her charges. Buttercup and Blossom were the twins, she remembered, and to her relief they were not identical. Buttercup was dark haired, with two long braids, and a round pale face with big round green eyes; she scrutinized Bubbles sternly, and Bubbles could not tell what the verdict was. Blossom had strawberry blonde hair- the blonde probably from her father- also in two long braids, with an equally round freckled face but very light colored eyes that Bubbles could have sworn were _pink_. She looked like Mr Harrington, and Bubbles judged her to be the more docile twin. Robin was next, and she was quite tiny, with a little oval face, dark eyes, and curly dark brown hair that was cut quite short. Michael, or Mikey as Mrs. Crawford had referred to him, was round faced and beaming, and a very handsome child who looked just like his father except for lighter eyes. On the whole, she liked the look of them.

Mr. Harrington introduced them to her. "You four, you'll like Bubbles," he added impulsively at the end.

Bubbles smiled at them; they all returned the grin, except for Buttercup. She sighed; she could sense future conflict with the eldest, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Bertram was ushering them away. Boomer Harrington took the opportunity to scrutinize the young governess more leisurely. She was quite attractive, but not beautiful. Not like Evangeline –

"Your children are very handsome," she said.

"Thank you."

"They take after you."

"Not Robin, surely?"

" _Even_ Robin. Her eyes, and her features, you know. I think I'll enjoy this. They seem very well-behaved."

"They are." He swallowed. "Evangeline, my – late – wife, and I saw to that."

"I'm sorry." She _was_ , too. There was honest sympathy in her eyes.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat. "Yes, well. I'll see you to your room, you must be tired. If you'd like to join us, the children and I have tea at four – if you'd rather eat something now, the cook's name is Hannah and she would love to make you something."

"Thank you. But I'm not very hungry."

He stood up and picked up one of her bags. Bubbles immediately protested. "Thank you, but I can carry this."

"I'm sure you can, but I intend to carry it now."

Bubbles grinned. "It's heavy."

"If _you_ can carry it," he retorted, "I'm sure _I_ can."

She chuckled. "I'm not so sure."

Boomer Harrington found himself laughing with this young woman as they went up the stairway with Bubbles' incredibly heavy bag. Bertram, coming down to clear up the sitting room, was amazed – it had been such a long time since the young man had laughed, and with a lady too.

Perhaps this was a good thing.

 **~End Of Chapter~**


	3. Teatime

_Okay, Buttercup might act a bit OOC in this chapter, but keep in mind that she's a 6 year old rich girl and I'm the author here, k?_

 _I'm **kidding**. Maybe ;)_

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 **-Teatime-**

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"I hope your room is satisfactory," Boomer Harrington said courteously. Bubbles scarcely paid attention, however, for she was wholly focused on the sight before her. A huge canopy bed with covers in soft shades of pink had floating curtains that fluttered in the slight breeze. The window was huge, with a cushioned sill, and it looked out on a view of hilly gardens with trimmed roses. An old gardener was moving among the plants with a weed cutter. There was a small bathroom on the left as well as a huge old armoire and a wall-length mirror.

"It's lovely," she said, amazed. "I've never seen anything grander."

"You like it?" Boomer Harrington smiled warmly. "I'm glad. If you need anything, you can ask me. We have a few maids – Martha will take your room."

"Maids!" Bubbles gaped.

"It's a big house. It takes a lot of maintaining," Boomer said.

"I'm sure," she replied, closing her mouth quickly, remembering her manners. "Thank you very much."

"Will you come down to tea? That is, if you want to only, of course," he asked awkwardly. He shifted uncomfortably, cursing himself. Since when did his perfect manners and polished speech abandon him in front of a girl?

"Of course I will, thank you. I'll just wash up first."

"Yes." He stood there for a moment and then realized she probably meant this as a hint. "Oh – sorry –"

He left feeling like an utter fool.

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Bubbles descended to the kitchen nervously. She had changed out of her gray traveling suit into her simple navy blue skirt and blouse. Nervously, she had checked her reflection in the mirror, then chided herself. Since when had she cared about her appearance?

"Only the children will see," she had said to herself, trying not to include Mr. Harrington in this description.

A maid stopped her at the foot of the stairs. She was a slight young thing, pretty, with brown curls escaping from her bonnet. "Oh, miss, the dining room is over there. Mr. Harrington is waiting."

"Thank you," Bubbles said, grateful. She would have gotten lost for sure, otherwise.

The dining room was spacious and interesting, with all sorts of unique paintings mounted on the wall. Bubbles half-expected to see chandeliers and fancy silverware, but the plates were simple china and Boomer was seated at the front of the long table.

"Miss Utonium," Boomer said, nodding coolly. He had resolved to be much more professional about this whole governess business. "Do sit down."

She took a seat on his right and fidgeted.

"Bertram will be bringing the children," he said.

Bubbles nodded mutely, her stomach growling. Mr. Harrington was being all cool and polite – had she done something wrong? He looked so handsome, with his hair combed back and his tie slightly crooked and his beard finely shaved….

Bertram, the old butler, came in with the four children in tow. The baby Michael was in front, toddling along, and then came Robin, Blossom, and lastly, Buttercup, who dragged her feet and looked at the floor.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Harrington said, smiling at them. He stood up and helped Michael into an elevated seat.

"Good afternoon, Daddy," they chorused.

"I'm hungry," Robin said reproachfully. Blossom poked her and Robin subsided. Michael picked up his fork and banged it softly against his plate.

Another maid brought in a tray of tea and milk.

"So, Miss Utonium," Boomer said, pouring her some tea. "What was your situation before this?" He determinedly did not notice the dimples in Bubbles' cheek and the twinkle in her eyes.

"I want tea," Buttercup said.

"Milk, BC," he said absently.

"I was working as a tutor for a young boy for quite some time, but he moved to Switzerland. I finished up my –"

"I want tea," Buttercup demanded.

Boomer Harrington frowned at her. "You never get tea. What are you thinking?"

"I want it now, Daddy," she whined.

"No," he said firmly, and looked at her for some time until she cowered. "I'm sorry; continue, Bubbles." He mentally swore at himself – what happened to his resolution of calling her Miss Utonium?

Bubbles unbent slightly. "Oh – well, I attended an all girls grammar school until my father could no longer afford it, so, he would always teach me what he knew every night. When his health began to fail him, my neighbor, an aging woman, gave me the books she wasn't using to keep her fire alive. They were the Classics and I read cover to cover every single day. I accepted a teaching position at a local school and that helped me complete my own studies, before choosing to become a governess."

Boomer nodded. "What type of literature do you like?"

"Daddy, I want tea _now_ ," BC screeched. She banged her spoon on the table.

"Buttercup," Blossom whispered. "Shh." Robin giggled; Michael copied her and banged his spoon on the table too.

Boomer Harrington looked harassed. Bubbles felt a rush of pity for him, though she couldn't say why. "Buttercup, behave yourself right now," he said through clenched teeth. "Otherwise, you may leave the table."

Buttercup started crying, much to Boomer's dismay, Bubbles' consternation, and Robin and Michael's delight. "I want tea!" Buttercup screamed. "Dadd-y!"

"But – what on Earth?" Boomer looked angry, then helpless.

Bubbles debated mentally with herself for only a few seconds. "Buttercup," she said strongly, "why do you want tea?"

BC gulped. "I want it now," she said irrationally. Bubbles thought briefly that this girl was persistent.

"Why?"

"You drink it," she said angrily. "I do too."

"All right," Bubbles said, not daring to look at Mr. Harrington. "Then take a sip." She deliberately poured black tea into a cup and handed it to the girl, who glared at her and then stared at the cup suspiciously.

She took a sip, and spit it out. At least she didn't spray it all over the table, Bubbles thought. "Yuck," she groaned, and her siblings screeched with laughter.

"I want to try it," Robin demanded, and snatched the cup. "Eeeww!" Michael was giggling so much that he dropped his plate.

"I hate tea," Buttercup declared.

Bubbles finally stole a glance at Mr. Harrington. To her utter relief, he was _smiling._

 **~End Of Chapter~**

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 **A big THANKYOU to everyone who has reviewed, liked, followed and just viewed the story. You da shit~**

 **~Shiloh**


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